Mohamad and I met back when we were studying in the American University of Beirut, in 2011.
It all started with one question... As I was walking down to the Business building, he popped out of nowhere and asked "Are you a Business Sophomore student?!". The answer was a very confused "Yes!". Turns out that he was just scouting for votes to become a student body representative. Unfortunately for him, my vote was VOID (apparently I was the only student in AUB who checked in one too many names... Oups!)
Luckily for us, we had a lot of friends in common and we quickly became part of the same group. After a year of us studying together, getting into life-threatening car accidents together, and sharing way too many details of our past relationships to each other, Mohamad went up to my cousin and confidently said to her: "It's decided... I want to ask Farah out on a date, and after a few years, we're going to get married!" - not sure where that came from, and this time, it wasn't a question.As we were all going out to dinner as a group, Mohamad called all our friends beforehand and asked them not to come. We ended up having dinner alone, "coincidentally". It wasn't until the end of the night that I got struck with the hardest questions of them all... the restaurant comment card that I had to fill read "Who are you with?". I couldn't tick "My date" because, what if he isn't? I couldn't tick "A friend" because, what if this is a date? And he is obviously not a family member, so this one checked out too. So I had the idea of creating a new answer option (as a joke) and I wrote "My husband".
After seven lovely years of us pursuing our separate careers together (with three of them being long distance!!), Mohamad finally popped the RIGHT question. I was coming back home from a wedding party, and had already started taking out my fake lashes in the elevator. I rang my house doorbell, and walked through a pathway of flowers and candles, leading up to my dimmed-light salon, where he was waiting for meLittle did I know, he held onto the restaurant comment card that I had tampered with on our first "date".